


Dance With Me (English)

by mist_igri



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dancer!Louis, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Music, Regrets, comfort mostly though, dancer!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 17:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mist_igri/pseuds/mist_igri
Summary: [He never went back to England. He cut himself off his old life and built an new one in Boston, trying to erase the painful memories that Europe represented. He never danced nor talked too Louis again. And he met James.]





	Dance With Me (English)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dance With Me (Français)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225899) by [mist_igri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mist_igri/pseuds/mist_igri). 



> So... I tried to translate my own fic and I reckon this is far from perfect (reading is so much easier than writing, I swear). I clearly lack vocabulary. But please give it a try?
> 
> I hope that it is no too bad and that maybe some people are gonna enjoy this.  
> If you happen to read this and find huge mistakes, please tell me. I'd love to improve this work.

James had just left for the hospital. An emergency. Big accident on the highway. Harry’s lucky you know : his companion saves lives ! He’s a thirty-four year old well known and respected surgeon. He makes people’s lives better. 

Well, not Harry’s. It’s two in the morning and he’s all alone in his bed. As usual. And, of course, he can’t go back to sleep. And, of course, he can’t seem to quiet his mind either.

He’s not allowed to complain, though : he knew it. He knew that a surgeon makes good money, supports and spoils the person sharing its life. He knew that agreeing to be with him meant agreeing to live _without_ him most of the time. But he never imagined it would be so bad.

He loves his boyfriend. He has to, otherwise he’s no better than those who stay for complacency, for money, for safety. It’s just… He doesn’t love his relationship. He lives with a man who becomes more of a stranger every day. They share a bed, a roof, a table sometimes… But besides, what are they ?

Harry’s got everything to be happy. He just turned twenty-six, lives in a beautiful house with a garden, has a stable long-term relationship, a true best friend who’s always there for him and all the free time he needs, since James doesn’t want him to work. What else could he possibly need ? He has got the perfect life that everyone envies. Yet, he feels miserable. And even worst though he shouldn’t.

Five years ago, Harry fell for that guy. And he got caught up in this sudden, flamboyant love. It shaked his world, turned it upside down. Harry abandonned his life for James. He left his personality behind, his habits, his own family and friends. He forgot everything, became someone else without even noticing.

Today, Harry does not even recognize himself. And he blames James for it. But also, he can’t help but think… maybe it’s his own fault ?

__

It’s six in the morning when James comes through the door, trying to remain as quiet as possible. But when he turns around and sees Harry sitting at the table, a mug of coffee in front of him, James sights. "Harry, it’s early, why are you already up ?"

"Couldn’t sleep…"

Harry’s head is heavy in his hand, just like is heart in his chest. James moves closer and raises his hand to Harry’s cheek, rubbing it gently. His thumbs are tracing the bags under Harry’s eyes and he winces.

"You know, I’m not the one in danger. I’m not on the operating table. You don’t actually have to stay awake ‘til you ear from me."

Harry groans and mumbles a bit and James kisses his forehead.

"I didn’t think you’d come home this morning." Harry says with a low voice.

"I left some files in here, had to come and get them. Plus, I really need a shower and ours is way better than the one at the hospital. Especially when we share it."

Harry holds a sigh while James’ hand slides along his arm.

"Gimme a minute." Harry mumbles with his eyes closed.

James goes straight for the bathroom and Harry’s gaze falls on his coffee. It’s cold and he did not even have a sip of it. He gets up and throws the black liquid in the sink, then literally drags himself to the other side of the room. He longs for nothing. He’s tired, physically as well as mentally. On the inside, he’s begging for a warm, comforting hug and a good night of sleep. But instead, he heads toward the sound of pouring water.

__

James left right after.

 

***

 

The tablecloth is bright white and neat, but it is not easy to see under the huge floral arrangement that sits in the middel of the table. For each of the eight seets, there are two plates, six pieces of cutlery, three glasses and a well folded napkin. And the name cards. Harry thinks this might look like a wedding. But it’s not. It’s just another charity event for the hospital, again.

Harry is sitting alone, James a bit farther with all the greatest surgeons. Women are gathered next to the buffet, drinking punch to help them through the night. They are all laughing like they are enjoying it, but Harry is not blind. None of them really appreciate being there tonight. They just… play along better than he does, is all.

"I’m so done pretending to be the perfect little wife."

"You are not a perfect little wife." Harry says, lifting his eyebrow.

Perrie giggles and hits Harry’s shoulder with her hip. But he’s right. "I may not be a perfect wife, but at least I’m married. What are you guys waiting for ? Same-sex marriage is legal everywhere now."

"That’s not what’s holding us back."

"So what ? Is it James ?"

"James already proposed. Three times."

Harry feels Perrie’s shocked gaze on him more than he sees it.

" He… You…"

"I don’t wanna get married Perrie."

"But why ?" She blurts out. "I thought you wanted to have kids, so it’s almost an obligation. And you guys love each other. What’s holding you back ?"

"This is not really the place to talk about it…"

Harry gets up, hoping to run away from his best friend, but all the others come back at the exact same time. James comes right next to Harry, sets a hand on his back. "Sit down Honey, the show is about to begin. And trust me, you don’t want to miss it."

Harry does not share the enthusiasm, but he is still alarmed. So he sits back and looks toward the scene as the lights go off. Perrie is behind him and Harry hopes that will save him from any investigation. Yet, the blonde bends forward and whispers to his ear. "We’re not done talking. Tomorrow, come over and spill your guts."

Harry fakes nonchalance and tries to focus. The room is dark when the music starts to play. It’s something slow, deep, hauting. Three girls arrive on the front scene in fluid movements, under subdued lights. They immediatly catch Harry’s eye and he gets lost in their dance. He is even more gone when a whole troupe joines them for a magnificently orchestraded choreography.

Some steps strike him to the core. He feels like he recognizes several sequences, thinking at the same time that it’s just impossible. He tries to reason himself. It has been years, afterall. He probably forgot some details. Or other dancers will have perfected the same movements. Harry feels a slight pinch in his chest just thinking about it, but quickly moves away form his reflections and concentrates on the show.

At the end of the first performance, the dancers leave the stage and James leans toward Harry. "So, you like it ?"

Harry bites his lower lip. James knows him well. But maybe not enough. Harry nods softly with a weak smile. Of course he likes it. It’s always nice to witness your passion. But sometimes it is also terribly painful. And that night, it is.

For more than half an hour, Harry takes it on himself to remain emotionless and make the most of the show. But after a while, the pain gets overwhelming and he needs to leave. It should be over soon anyway. He apologises to James, who gives him a questionning look, and takes advantage of the darkness to sneak to the door. He is almost there when a new song begins and the first notes have him stop in his tracks. He can’t help but turn around and he must be thankful his hand was on the doorknob because it is the only thing that keeps him standing.

Alone in the center of the scene is a boy. A man. He is in profile, his head low, his back perfectly straight, his leg slightly bent and his foot pointed. Harry can’t really see his features from the back of the room, but he would recognize him anywhere. And if there was any doubt left, it’s gone as soon as the man begins to dance.

This choreoghraphy has always been his trademark. Theirs, actually. They used to execute it together, a long time ago.

The performance is perfect, just like Harry remembers it. It’s a solo and it is the only change that has been made in the routine. Of necessity, the lifts have been traded for ground movements, but the substance of the dance remained unaltered.

At the very end, as the music stops and just before the lights go out completely, the dancer brings his right hand to his left arm, stroking gently. For anybody else, there is nothing to see. But for Harry, it means everything. And he does not realize that he mimics the gesture, brushing the rose tattooed under his own elbow with his fingertips.

It takes less than a minute for Harry to go across the room and through the doors leading backstage. A few strides and he is near the dressing-rooms where the excitement is building. And there, _his_ voice.

Harry stays stone-faced while he hears _him_ congratulate his dancers. _His dancers_. _He_ is clearly the leader here. The sequences did not lie.

Harry wonders if he is ready for this. Does he really want to face years of silence and guilt ? Is he ready to stand before his past, his passion and everything that has been taken away from him ? How prepared is he to face the one who once was his patner and so much more than that ? His friend. His lover.

All it had taken was one performance, one dance, one _porté_. A bad support, a beginnner’s mistake. On the same music, following the exact same moves as tonight.

While Harry was lost in his thoughts, no one paid attention to him. Until the corridor emptied. Then again, _his_ voice. "Harry ?"

Hearing his name on those lips has him shivering. Harry’s green eyes meet the man’s blue ones. The latter smiles widely and strides closer. "Harry Styles, it is you ! What a surprise !"

Harry can barely process the presence of this guy on this side of the Atlantic, let alone the fact that he takes him in his arms, wrapping his shoulders and clasping his body. Harry’s lack of reaction does not seem to discourage the smaller one. It must be said, Louis has always been the most talkactive and exuberant of them both, attracting all the attention.

"What are you doing here ?" Louis asks with his usual enthusiasm.

"I… I live here. In Boston I mean. Not here… _here_ , obviously. I.. And you ?"

Louis smiles as Harry muddles up. He answers easily, not quite as startled as Harry would have thought. "We came for a contest with the group." Louis says. "It’s in three weeks so there is plenty of time, but we really wanted to make the most of it. Enjoy the opportunity of being in the US. Then we found this event and it was just a great way for both praticing and making some money, so…"

Louis shrugs and Harry stands idly, processing. Of course, he saw Louis dancing tonight. Of course, he understood that those dancers were no amateurs. But he is hit with the facts : Louis kept on dancing. Louis set up a troupe, which enters competitions. Louis crossed the ocean for the sole purpose of satisfying his passion. Their passion. And the realisation just twists the knife.

"So…" Louis resumes. "Where do you dance ?"

"Uh… I..." Harry shakes his head while looking down. Louis breathes a _"Oh"_ that can barely be heard and sets his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He is probably the only one who can truly get it.

Suddenly, the door gets opened and Harry turns around to see Perrie frowning.

"Harry. James is looking for you." She says with a soft, caring voice.

Harry sighs and mouths _"Ok"_ to let her know that he is coming. He then turns to Louis and pouts. "I have to go." He says slowly.

"Can we meet again ?" Louis rushes. "We should catch up ! I’m staying at a hotel out of town. Well, me and the group."

Harry pauses, then nods. He pulls a calling card out of his jacket and hands it over to Louis. The latter raises an eyebrow and Harry recognizes the small smile that spreds across his face. Not quite mocking, definitely mischievious.

"Classy." Louis whispers.

Harry shrugs. That is not him, he is not like that. He hopes that, deep down, Louis still knows that. Louis winks at him and keeps smiling. Harry has to go, but the mere thought of turning his back on Louis now is strangely painful. He shifts his weight from one leg to another and, eventually, he turns around.

"Call me." He says over his shoulder.

"Will do." Louis answers with a grin.

 

***

 

"So, are you gonna tell me what you were doing backstage with that dancer last night ?"

"I liked the show, just wanted to let him know." Harry shrugs.

"Harry, I’m not an idiot. The way that guy was looking at you… He’s clearly not a stranger. Now tell me !"

Harry sighs heavily. He knows Perrie won’t let go. When she wants something, she clings almost desperately. And she always gets what she wants, eventually. Thing is, she has no clue about Harry’s past. James himself barely knows where Harry comes from : he was promised to a brilliant futur as a dancer, but injured his knee badly one day and had to give up. That’s it. And Harry is not ready to open up about this story, it is too painful.

But then, he looks up and his best friend is glaring at him with her big, blue, lingering eyes. They are used to the staring. Perrie always tries, and manages, to get to him this way. However, for the first time, Harry is actually thinking of another pair of blue eyes while peering at Perrie’s. And maybe, just maybe, it is time for him to let go. He gave Louis a way to contact him and he is pretty sure he will confront him somehow. So, Harry might as well entrust his best friend, so that she can help him with… all that.

"His name is Louis. He was my partner. We used to dance together."

Harry could laugh at Perrie’s face if he was not already so nervous.

"You used to… _dance_? With him ? Ok Haz, you’re gonna have to explain this to me and I want all the details !" She sits more confortably on the couch, folding her legs and resting a cushion on her thighs, a hot cup of tea between her hands. She is such a gossip, Harry thinks as he exhale loudly and start talking.

He tells her everything. How he started dancing at the age of four, because his sister had lessons and he thought it was beautiful. How she stopped two years later because she found it too hard, while he was flourishing. How, as a teenager, he was made fun of when the other students found him practicing dance moves in the back of the gym because he couldn’t resist the music. How he was bullied when he came out, hearing on a daily basis that everyone should have known he was gay, given the way he moved.

Perrie gets more and more tensed as the story unfolds. Harry has no doubt that, would they have been friends back then, she would have crushed anyone who made that kind of statement. But she softens when Harry keeps going about his youth.

How he met Louis, who joined his dance group because he had just moved to London. How that boy was gifted, such a good dancer with fifteen years of experience. How Louis helped Harry to grow stronger and assert himself, influencing his way of moving. How, gradually, their trainings brought them closer, ‘til their teacher proposed that they dance together. How it had been the best artistic experience of Harry’s life when he had lifted Louis for the first time in a sequence, their bodies  positioning perfectly, complementing in a way that had never been possible when working with the girls. How they began to train together, more and more often. How they became friends. How they became inseparable.

How, someday, Louis made him listen to that powerful, deep song. How they improvised a choreography out of time, led by the music. How the tension between them became overwhelming as their bodies were attracted to each other and they ended up having sex that day. How, after that, they functioned as one, dancing in perfect harmony. How those few months were the best part of Harry’s life and how everything just felt… _right_.

Then comes the hard part. Harry grits his teeth when he talks about this simple workout. Always the same performance they knew by heart, always the same steps they perfectly mastered, so that they did not even have to think about it really. They just let themselves be carried by the notes and their emotions. How, without knowing how or why, he mispositioned his foot when he went to lift Louis up. How his knee twisted horribly, how he fell to the floor in a dull thud. How he was unable to get up because his leg was not moving and he was completely panicked.

"I ended up in the hospital, obviously. My knee was… really bad. Torn ligaments are fatal to a dancer. I was devastated, and Louis as well. He tried to hide it when he was with me, but I knew him too well, I could read him like an open book."

Perrie lets out a soft sigh, and Harry knows that she won’t like what is coming. He keeps going, staring at his coffee cup with a blank expression.

"My mom found this great surgeon with the best reputation here, in Boston."

"James ?" Perrie exclaims.

"No." Harry answers with a smile. "James excels in his fields, but neuro has nothing to do with cruciate ligaments. So, I said goodbye to Louis before boarding the plane and I made him promise to keep going and practise without me. He said he would do it for the sole purpose of getting me back to level when I’d be perfectly healed."

"But you never were." Perrie gets it and Harry shrugs. No, he never was. He spent weeks in rehab, followed every doctor’s recommendation for an optimal healing. But he soon realized that, even in the best case scenario, he would never dance again like he used to.

He never went back to England. He cut himself off his old life and built an new one in Boston, trying to erase the painful memories that Europe represented. He never danced nor talked too Louis again. And he met James.

 

***

 

Harry fiddles with the coaster on the table. He hasn’t been this nervous in a long time. Louis should be here any minute and Harry really just wants to run away.

They didn’t have a clean break up. When Harry boarded for Boston, they were still together. They kept in touch for a few weeks, then Harry just stopped answering. He disappeared without trace overnight, erased his accounts on social medias, deleted his number and left no contact address. It was drastic, a bit excessive maybe.

Meeting Louis at the gala was sudden and unexpected. They were both under shock and, clearly, they could not react properly. But three days later, in hindsight, Harry is a bit afraid. Louis must resent him. How could he even want to meet up, really ? Maybe he will just overwhelm Harry with reproaches. He would have every right to. Or maybe he will ask for an explanation, and Harry is not sure he can manage to clarify his behaviour.

Harry is about to be sick when Louis comes through the door of the tea-room. He passes by the counter to order a drink, then looks for Harry. The place is not too big nor crowded, so Louis is quick to find him. He waves enthusiasticly as Harry answers shyly. Louis sits and they just stare at each other for a bit. Harry’s gaze drops as he bites his lips, even though he did not see resentment in Louis’ eyes.

"How are you ?" Louis asks nicely.

"I, hum… Good. You ?"

"I’m fine, but I doubt you are, according to your face."

Harry raises his head, alarmed. And Louis giggles. "Relax, Harry. It’s OK. God, you weren’t even that stressed before performing on stage for the first time."

Harry groans, but Louis’ hand comes across the table to rest on his wrist while he speaks softly. "It’s me. It’s alright."

"It’s not alright." Harry bursts, shaking his head.

"Hey, it’s not up to you to judge. And I tell you it is."

"But how ? How could it be ?" Harry runs his hand through his hair, pulling as he gets angry at himself. "You should be mad at me, you should yell at me ! Ask for an explanation, I don’t know…"

Louis looks stratled, then frowns. "Harry, that was years ago. I had plenty of time to cry and hate you for it. Then I understood and forgave you. It’s behind us now."

Harry is dazed. So, Louis gets it ? Louis is an actual angel, far too kind and understanding for his own good. Louis’ gaze softens and anchors Harry’s."There is no point in stirring up the past."

Harry winces. Seeing Louis is stirring up the past. It is getting hit by the past. But Harry owes him, so he forces a smile and sips at his drink.

__

"No more dancing, then ?"

Harry bites his lips and shakes his head.

"I thought your knee was good. Your mom told me that…"

Harry raises his head at the mention of his mother. "My mom ?"

"Well, yeah. When she came home, I asked her for updates since…"

Since Harry wouldn’t answer his questions. There comes the sassy part. Harry keeps going, nonetheless. "My knee is good. Well, I can live like that. Just… can’t dance."

"But the doctors said that with rehab and a good program, you could. I don’t get it." And he looks sincerely puzzled.

So Harry sighs and continues. "I refuse to hold back or get limited. I’d rather not dance at all than dance poorly. That’s all."

Harry looks sideway, retreating to himself. Louis knows him, he knows that Harry is done talking. Some things you just can’t forget. Yet, Louis insists. "Did you at least try ?"

Harry stays silent, arms crossed over his chest, and it’s worth every reply. Louis leans back in his chair, looking detached. "We rent a studio on Massachusetts Avenue in Cambridge. You know it ?"

"Yeah, I do."

"You should come over, one of these days."

"I know what you are trying to do." Harry says, suspicious.

Louis raises his hands, playing innocent. "We are training for a competion, Harry. We could use an outsider’s vue, even more form a professional. "

Harry mutters something about not being a professional. But still, it is Louis. And he owes him. So, he does not say no.

 

***

 

Harry has been standing outside the door for several minutes, unable to enter the studio. He hears Louis counting times, clapping his hands and giving advice. Louis’ voice mixed with soft music has Harry feeling good yet strange. His hands are sweaty, his heart is beating a bit too fast and his head is filled with uninvited memories.

When Harry finally pushes the door open, he finds himself behind Louis, watching his dancers in action. He waits for the music to stop, then reaches for him. When Louis catches sight of him in the mirrors, a huge smile spreads across his face. He joins Harry in two strides and kisses his cheek, looking really comfortable. 

"Someone here’s been dying to see you." Louis says slyly.

Harry doesn’t even have time to ask bout it. Louis moves away and calls for Jayden. Hearing the name, Harry’s eyes widens. The teenager appears by his side, beaming.

"Harry ! Dude, I’m so happy that you’re here !"

Jayden hugs Harry tightly and the latter stays agape. In his mind, Jayden is still a child. A small, thin, gifted, black haired kid. It’s hard for Harry to associate that memory with this young man almost as tall as him. Harry grabs Jayden’s shoulders to push him back slightly. He looks at him frankly and is struck with green eyes and a wide smile.

"You grew up !"

Louis and Jayden laugh as Harry’s cheeks turn red. But it’s a fact. Jayden was thirteen when Harry last saw him. He is now nineteen and Harry had never thought that he would see him ever again.

"You are not that kid who groaned not to put on tights anymore !"

"And wait ‘til you see him dance." Louis adds with pride.

It gets crowed around them, so Jayden speaks up and introduces Harry to the rest of the group. They are all strangers to Harry, yet they all have a nice word to greet him. And Harry recognizes Louis’ spirit in the troupe. It is family, a warm and true positive atmosphere.

__

Harry stayed for one hour. When he left, he felt adopted.

 

***

 

For the next week, Harry went to the studio every other day. Jayden would give him puppy eyes to make him come back and help, although he clearly no longer needed his advice. But despite everything, Harry was easy to convice. Because it had been a long time since he felt that serene, that helpful. And it was a great feeling.

Harry also saw Louis on his own. Three times. They met one morning for breakfast, went out one night after training and then spent one day together in order to catch up. It is not like the last six years had never occured because there is obviously a lot of reserve between them, but it still feels nice.

Once again, Harry spent the afternoon at the studio. On his way home, he was in a good mood. And he should have been for the rest of the night, but it seems like James does not appreciate his new rhythm.

"Where were you ?" James asks when Harry comes through the door.

Harry freezes. He did not expect to find him home and can’t come up with a valid excuse. "I just went for a walk."

"You are never home lately."

"You’re exaggerating."

James approches and puts his arms around Harry’s shoulders, then presses his lips to Harry’s for a split second. "You are acting weird since the gala, Honey. Did something happen ? What are you not telling me ?

Harry breaks free from James’ embrace, unwilling to acknowledge his tenderness. "I’m fine. It’s nothing."

"I know something is on your mind."

Harry sighs, slightly irritated. "It’s not much. I’m giving advice for a dance troupe that’s planning a comptetition, is all."

"You are dancing again ?" James blurts out, astonished.

"No, I’m not." Harry says slowly. "Just giving an opinion. And I don’t wanna talk about it."

"Is it the troupe from the gala ?" James insists.

"I said I don’t wanna talk about it."

Harry’s jaw clenches and he turns over, heading for the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water and, while drinking, he nervously taps his fingers on the counter. He has the unpleasant feeling of being off balance with his life. He knows that he has changed. Question is : when ? This week, like James suggests ? Or did he change six years ago and is now getting tired of the person he pretends to be ?

 

***

 

Harry slams the door, clearly annoyed. There is no way he is staying home. James just made another comment about him being out too much, and Harry just can’t take it anymore. He feels like James wants to keep him to himself, lock him up. And he can’t breathe, it’s overwhelming. Harry can’t bear the hurtful remarks and insane demands, or the arguments they get into on a daily basis now.

When he is this overwhelmed, Harry usually just walks around, listening to some soothing music. But tonight, it won’t do, he knows it. As he reaches the corner of the street, he turns over and heads for his car. He switches on the ignition without thinking and drives in a daze.

He is lead by his instincts to the one place he needs, and he is almost surprised when he finds himself standing in front of the dance studio. He takes a deep breath and goes in, not wondering why the door is actually unlocked. He walks to the mirrors, his fingers leaning on the handrail. When he faces the PA system, he automatically takes his phone out of his pocket and plugs it in.

 

[Bird Set Free - Sia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrT_0J6m6y8)

 

Music floods through the room and Harry takes a few steps back. He takes off his sweater and rolls his shoulders. He knows he should warm up more, but he needs to move _right now_.

He lets himself be carried a bit, turning slowly, his arms swinging to the music. He tries a few timid steps and then, when the chorus starts, he exploses. It is instinctive, brutal. He lets go of all the things he has been holding back for years : frustration, trouble, pain. He should be more careful : there is nothing worst than being carried away while unprepared, especially after so long. But he can not make himself stop. At the end of the song, he sets his phone on repeat and starts over.

He goes for basic movements at first, but they are just not enough to help him channel his emotions. So he throws himself in the feelings of the song without thinking twice. He forgets the time, forgets the place. He means to forget about everyhing, but he is reminded of his knee with a sting. Harry rages, kicking in the air and shouting over the music. He runs his hand through his hair, sighs heavily and gets ready to resume, but two hands rest firmly on his shoulders and stop him in his tracks.

Louis’ fingers brush against Harry’s arms as they go down. He join their hands and sticks his chest to Harry’s back, dragging him along with him. His dance is much more slow and calm. Motions are wide and fluid. Harry feels the tension gently flowing along his limbs and gets lost in his partner’s sweetness. Louis is channeling him, better than anything or anyone else.

When the song comes to an end, Louis grabs the remote control with one hand and stops the system so that the room is silent again. Anyone else would have told Harry off, frightened him with threats of wounds from dancing like he did. But not Louis. He just stands, his eyes locked to Harry’s while facing him. And there, out of the blue, Harry lets go. He falls on his knees and drops his head into his hands. Louis does not react and just sits in front of him. It might seem odd from the outside, but it is just another one of their old habits. Being there without pushing it. Louis knows that if Harry needs it, he will come to him. In the meantime, Harry cries it off on its own.

When he starts to calm down, Louis gets up and pulls at Harry’s shoulders. The latter sits and spreads his legs. He immediately understands what Louis wants to do so he positions himself and streches his tensed muscles. The first few seconds are painful and Harry actually wants to give up, but Louis accompanies him in the effort, so he keeps going. He gets frustrated and regretful when he figures out all the flexibility he has lost over the years.

Louis grabs Harry’s hands and pulls toward himself, stretching his back as much as he can. He takes advantage of Harry’s position to start talking.

"How are you feeling ?"

"Exhausted…"

"No kidding." Louis grins. "You did quite good actually, for someone who hasn’t danced in years." 

And Harry laughs a little in spite of himself.

 

***

 

Following that incident, Harry spends his days in the studio. He watches for hours and gives advice when he can. He corrects the youngest on their positions and tries to help them make the most of it. Then, when pratice is over, he sticks around. Louis gave him a key to the place, so he takes advantage of it. He would rather be alone there than at home.

He does not dance, though. He has not since that night. But he remains in the room, enjoying the calm atmosphere. He plays some music and lets his mind wander to the notes. He tries to relax and stretches. He trains a bit, using exercices that his physiotherapist had given him a few years back. And he reflects. 

Sometimes, Louis stays with him. They talk, or Harry watches him dance. Louis tried to get him to move along, but Harry still refuses. If he is being honest, he wants to. But it is just too much for now. Then, sometimes, Harry goes out with Louis for a drink or to grab something to eat. And they walk on the outskirts of Boston.

Harry feels like reconnecting with his old self and he does not know if he really likes it. Because Louis’ competition is in two days and then, Louis will leave. And Harry will stay and go back to his lonely, depressing daily life. The one he chose but which has not been satisfaying in a long time.

__ 

**Text from Jayden – 10.46 PM**

_[We made it to the podium ! Craaaaaazy ! You should’ve seen it, was great !!!]_

 

**Text from Louis – 10.48 PM**

_[Third ! Thanks Haz :)]_

  

"Could you please spare us." James whispers harshly in Harry’s ear.

Harry sighs softly and slips his phone back in his pocket. He is happy and proud of the boys, but mainly exasperated. Yes, he _should_ have seen it. He could have, if it was not for this sulky dinner with James’ bosses. And he is even more angry at the way James tricked him into it. He was about to leave for the competition when James came home, telling him to get ready for a dinner out. Last-minute, like it was impossible for Harry to have other plans.

A few minutes go by, but the constant buzzing of Harry’s phone against his thigh has him fidgety. He gets up and apologizes to the group before casually heading for the restroom. Once he is alone, he takes his phone out and smiles as he acknowledges two missed calls from Jayden, as well as three of his very enthusiastic texts. He goes to open them up, but his phone rings again.

"Louis. Congrats." he says with a smile in his voice.

"Thanks !" Louis speaks loudly to be heard over the noise. He is about to add something but Harry can hear his breath getting caught in his throat, quickly followed by Jayden’s muffled voice.

"Tell him to come over ! Harry," Jayden shouts, "you have to come and celebrate with us !"

"It’s okay, I’ll tell him." Louis laughs. "Now get off me, you’re killing me up here."

Jayden insists a bit more, gently mocking his elder before his voice falters. Louis resumes calmly. "So… We’re heading town to celebrate. Will you join us ?"

Harry can feel all of Louis’ hope in the question. He can also feel his own emotions turning in his guts, while he can not dare let it spread through his whole body.

"I… I’ll try. It shouldn’t be long here anyway. Send me the address and I’ll do my best to come by."

"Ok, let’s do that."

The door opens behind Harry and, looking up in the mirror in front of him, he can see James entering the room. "I have to go."

"I’ll send you the name of the club, keep me posted."

"Yeah." Harry cuts it short and hangs up as James comes closer.

"What is going on Harry ? You are not with me tonight."

"Of course I’m with you." Harry lowers his eyes as he opens the tap to wash his hands, focusing on the foaming soap between his fingers.

"You keep checking your phone, it’s very unpleasant. It’s like you don’t care and don’t want to be here."

"Let’s just say I had other plans for the night. And I did not especially enjoy having to cancel last minute."

"Why did you not tell me ?"

"You did not really give me an opportunity to do so. Plus, you kinda left me no choice." 

"Stop it. You say it like I am the villain directing your life." James says, getting mad.

"James…" Harry closes his eyes before turning around and clasping James’ hands in his own. "We are going back and enjoying the end of the evening. And…" He takes a deep breath. "Afterwards, I would like for you to drop me in town on the way home." 

"You have got to be kidding me !" James exploses, letting go of Harry’s hands.

"But…"

"But what ? I want to spend time with you ! We barely see each other lately !"

"Whose fault is it ?" Harry mutters under his breath. 

"Damn, Harry. I do not recognize you anymore."

And Harry can’t help but think that he actually begins to recognize himself, precisely. 

"You might as well go now. It does not make sense for you to stay any longer." James says coldly.

"Don’t put it that way…"

James raises his hands, clenching his fists and biting his lips. "Drop it. I am not going to argue with you in the restroom of a fancy restaurant."

With these words, James turns around and walks away, leaving Harry open-mouthed in front of the sink.

__ 

"I thought you were here to celebrate with us." Louis joins Harry and bumps their shoulders, a small smile on his lips. 

"Yeah, sorry. I kinda got in a fight with James and…"

"Oh, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to come."

"No ! No, it’s not you. Don’t you ever say that again. I’m glad to be here." Harry smiles back at him, hoping to ease the moment. "Anyway, you’re right. I didn’t come here to mope about James, so…" Harry gently puts his hand on Louis’ arm, squeezing slightly. "Congratulations, again. I’m sorry I missed it."

"You knew the choreography as well as we did, you saw it more often than anyone else. You did not miss much, really."

"Come on, you know it’s not true."

Louis shrugs before glancing at Harry. "You never agreed in the studio, but would you dance with me here ?"

And he does. Harry dances. With Louis, with the others. With Jayden, when the boy’s not trying to hit on Nina, his partner. With David, with Nicole, with Charles, with Tiffany… With all the dancers he got to know for those three weeks and who brought him closer to the passion he had vainly be trying to forget. He actually enjoys a good time with friends, glad to be immersed again in this universe that he knows. Or knew.

Harry feels like he has been brought a few years back, even more when Louis is the one dancing with him, his body brushing Harry’s. Time goes by, glasses are emptied and Louis and Harry get closer and closer... A hand on a hip, a leg between two others, arms around a neck, a head resting on a shoulder…

__

They share taxis to get home. The hotel is on the opposite of Harry’s house, but he knows that he won’t get to see Louis before he takes off later that day and he is not ready to say goodbye just yet. They end up alone in the same cab and Harry is pretty sure that is a deliberate move. They set up in the back of the car, glued to each other despite the obvious space.

The first few minutes are silent and Harry thinks that Louis fell asleep on his shoulder. But then, he hears him whispering. "Are you gonna forget about me again tomorrow ?"

Louis’ eyes are still closed, but pain is written all over his face. Harry’s throat is tight and his voice cracks when he wants to answer. "Louis…"

"Like, I mean..." Louis rushes, opening his eyes. "It’s nice, you know. The two of us, here. It’s nice. Maybe we could, I don’t know… Keep in touch, at least ?"

Louis quickly turns to Harry, his eyes insistant. Then he talks like words are coming in too fast and he is afraid he might not be able to express everything that is on his mind.

"I’m not saying we have to call everyday or cross the ocean at all times to see each other. It’s just… I like to have you in my life. It makes more sense when you are here somewhere. And I know that you were always there, _somewhere_ , but…" Louis reaches for Harry’s hands and fiddles with his fingers. "Don’t forget about me, Harry. Please, don’t keep me away. I won’t take much room."

"You already take much room Louis. You always have."

Louis’ eyes veil instantly. He wants to step back but Harry hold him in place and keeps going. "And I like it ! I didn’t realize it those last years. I think I didn’t want to. But now… Damn, I don’t wanna lose you. I’m already afraid of letting you off this cab knowing that we won’t meet up in the studio tomorrow."

Louis throws himself at Harry, clinging to him and hiding his head in the crook of his neck. "For what it’s worth… Your mother misses you as well."

 

***

 

"You have to calm down, Harry. You want too much too soon. It’s been years, you need to take it easy on your body, it’s not used to it anymore. You can’t go from nothing to a full workout in a couple of weeks."

Harry grunts, but he knows Ethan is right. He is the physiotherapist who got Harry back on tracks after his surgery. It had been a while since he last saw him and, although he likes the guy’s company, Harry was rather pleased. But it has been almost two weeks since Louis left and just as long since Harry began to dance again. Or at least _try_ to dance. But his knee is giving him a hard time.

He does not have the inspiration to start something new, so he goes for Louis and his’ old choreographies. But it is pretty obvious that he no longer reaches that level. Plus, his leg has been bothering him for a few days.

Ethan looks at Harry’s knee a bit more, touching here and there before giving a verdict. "You gotta stop, Harry. You forced too much yet."

"Fuck no. Don’t tell me to stop, I just started over !" Harry whimpers as he gets up.

"Just for a few days. Come back next week and we’ll set up a progam to strengthen the muscles. After that, you can try again. Slowly." Ethan insists on the last word, trying to catch Harry’s eye. The latter turns away, muttering an unconvinced _"Yeah"._

"Harry, I know it’s hard. But if you do this right, you have a good chance to regain a decent level. If you don’t listen to me… Well, you know what could happen."

Harry sighs. He does not want to think about it. Ethan resumes. "You know I’ll let James in on it if I have to."

"No !" Harry cries, catching his therapist’s attention. "James doesn’t know that… He doesn’t know that I’ve started dancing again. Nobody does, actually, except for you. So if you could just… keep it to yourself, please."

Ethan looks puzzled but does not says anything else and Harry is thankful.

__

Three long weeks of stimulation, stretching and endless exercices. And now that Harry finally has his therapist’s agreement to resume a "mesured training", in his own words, he finds himself unable to move. His movements have no meaning, carry no emotion. Harry gets irritated, to say the least. He sets his phone on random mode, hoping to come across some inspiring tune that would have him react. And then, Bird Set Free gets on. In a split second, Harry’s heart tightens and he is overwhelmed by his emotions. It only takes a minute for him to decide what’s next.

He goes staight for the bedroom and grabs a suitcase from the closet. He fills it in quickly, barely taking time to think about what he will need. He goes in and out the bathroom, then taps on his phone, looking for the first ticket that will get him across the Atlantic. He is lucky : a plane takes off in just a few hours. He calls a cab and jumps in the shower. He is getting excited and he has not felt that alive in too long. Fortunately, the car arrives in no time and he takes advantage of the ride to call James. The latter does not pick up, so Harry leaves a short message on his voicemail, serving him a lie without a hint of guilt.

"My mom is sick, I’m flying to England to help her out. I’ll call you when I get there."

Once that is off his mind, he shuts his phone off and closes his eyes in an attempt to calm down. The wait in unbearable. Since he made the decision to leave, all he wants is to arrive. During his few chats with Louis, Harry learned that he still lives in the same neighborhood. More importantly, he also knows that his friend works in the studio where they took their classes together. Their former coach, who is now the director, quickly offered Louis a job and, at the same time, a place to rehearse with his troupe.

Harry tries to sleep during the flight, hoping to wake up at the very end, but there is no chance that is going to happen : he is way too restless. He bounces on his seat, starts a movie that he does not really watch, then another just to look busy.

It is close to midnight when he lands in London. He does not want to impose himself at Louis’, but he needs a place to stay at. He would look for a hotel, but he knows that he would be blamed for it later. So, he naturally heads for the house of his childhood. When he gets there, lights are still on and he breathes in relief as he won’t have to wake someone up.

He stands in the doorway and his heart is pounding. He has not been back here in nearly six years. He saw his mother only a couple of times when she traveled to America. He knocks at the door, quickly perceiving sounds behind it. When it opens, Harry’s smile widens.

"Harry !" His mother flies into his arms and Harry has to take a few steps back to stabilize.

He raises her off the floor and tightens his hug. A familiar warmth spreads in his chest. When he loosens his embrace, his mom frames his face with her hands, as to make sure it is really him.

"God, what are you doing here ? Are you ok ? Are you alone ?" She asks after a peek above his shoulder.

"Mom !" Harry cuts with a laugh. "Will you let me in ?"

She gets it together and pulls her son inside, closing de door behind him. She takes away his jacket and his bag, leads him to the living room and rushes to the kitchen in order to make some tea. Harry smiles fondly at her and comes to hug her again. They finally sit on the couch and she has lots of questions to ask. Harry tries to answer truthfully and they talk for a while. Harry still keeps to himself that he has reconnected with Louis and argues that he missed her and needed a break. His mom is so delighted that she forgets about any other annoying question.

Two hours later, she hugs him one last time and goes to bed, exhausted. Harry stays downstairs a bit to make a phone call. James worries about his mother’s health before overwhelming Harry with reproaches about his hasty leaving. Harry manages to persuade him to stay in Boston and promises to keep him posted as often as possible. When he hangs up, he lets out a heavy sigh. He finally goes to his room, which is filled with memories related to his passion. He goes through his stuff for another hour before collapsing on his bed for a short night.

__

Harry is waiting in front of Louis’ classroom. He should be out anytime now for lunch break and Harry intends on surprising him. Harry’s head is a mess. He sways between excitement and apprehension, joy and stress. He has a feeling like his life is about to change in the next few minutes, depending on Louis’ reaction.

He is a nervous wreck as he walks along the corridor. He streches is back, raising his arms and, when he hears the door getting opened, he turns around. Some people leave the room without paying attention to him. They are directly followed by Louis, who freezes when he catches sight of Harry. They stand still for a few second and Louis is the first to react. He runs to Harry, wraps him in his arms and hides his head in the crook of his neck. After a few silent minutes of cuddling, Louis moves away and looks at Harry. He shakes his head and goes back to Harry’s arms, whispering some nonsense.

Harry is speechless as well. But he can feel something and he knows than Louis feels it too. This fire between them, not quite extinguished, yet waiting for this kind of moment to gently regain its vigor. So there is not much to say at the time, no room for meaningless words.

Eventually, they pull apart. They head down the street to a pub where they order drinks and sandwiches and their tongues finally untie. Just like he did with his mother, Harry leaves out some details about is trip to the UK. The crazy parts like "I flew on a whim" or "I lied to the man who shares my life without a hint of remorse". But when it comes to the topic of dance, Harry admits that he meant to resume but feels stuck.

"I wanna dance with you Louis. It does not make sense when I try on my own."

It looks like Louis’ eyes are full of stars, but they are actually just filling with tears and reflecting the lights of the room. And Harry takes the measure of his words. Because they both were connected, they lived it together. And Louis has been dancing on his own for six years. He may remain silent, but Harry can read every emotion he goes through in his damp eyes. Repressed pain. Strenght it took to keep going. Sadness slowly showing up. And some kind of relief, too. Relief of seeing Harry here with him, of hearing the words he has been longing for years.

Louis hardly swallows the mouthfull of bread he was chewing on, then nods. His voice is broken when he answers. "Took you long enough."

Harry smiles tearily at his words and Louis cackles a weird sound, between a laugh and a sob. They set off on lighter subjects, eating their sandwiches before returning to the studio.

Harry spends the first two hours of the afternoon in a corner, glad to just watch Louis at work. After the lesson, while everyone stretches, Louis disappears for a moment in the locker room. When he comes back, he hands Harry sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, then grins.

"Get ready." He says with a wink.

Harry smiles back and grabs the clothes. He gets comfortable and joins the dancers on the floor. He warms up and stretches as the others gradually exit the room. Soon enough, Louis and Harry are the only ones left. Louis grabs the remote from the speakers and turns to Harry, but does not move any further. So, Harry gets up and joins him.

"Could you perform the choreography I just worked on with the group ?" Louis asks cautiously.

Harry nods and Louis’s smile widens. He starts the music, gets rid of the remote and comes back to stand right next to Harry, facing the mirrors. Louis starts dancing right away in fluid motions. Harry joins him after a beat, hooking the pace with ease. His practised eyes immediately note the difference between Louis’ level and his, but the latter makes no comment. He even tries to hide his mocking smile when, after a few steps, Harry gets all mixed up. Louis just stops the music and comes back to line with Harry.

"Follow my lead."

And he slowly resumes the sequence, giving Harry all the time he needs to comprehend and mimic the movements.

 

***

 

"Are you gonna tell me where you disappear day and night ? Thought you were here for me."

Harry struggles not to spit the sip of tea he just took. Looking up, he finds his mother smiling widely, which makes sense since she talked playfully. He stays agape for a beat, seeking for words. Then, his mom bursts out laughing.

"Sweetie, I’m your mother. You can’t hide much from me. At least not when you live under my roof." She adds.

Harry feels warm spreading across his face and lowers his eyes.

"I did notice, you know. That your calls became less frequent, that you withdrew and kept really quiet about your life. That you haven’t aswered your phone for a week when it rings with James’ tone, but that you smile from ear to ear when you get a text."

She puts a finger under Harry’s chin to lift it up and looks at him kindly. "That, since you are here, it seems like you are getting your life back. Every day when you get up, you look better, happier. And as far as I know, there is only one person who has that power over you."

Harry blushes even more, biting harshly on his lower lip. That is all it takes to confirm his mother’s suspicions. She looks triumphant as she removes her hand from his face to grab her mug and casually sip at it.

"So, you strated dancing again."

It is not a question, but Harry still nods.

"How is your leg ?"

"It’s ok. I worked on it with Ethan before flying here. He came up with a custom-made program to get me ready. I won’t dare pushing it yet, but it’s ok."

"And how’s Louis ?"

Harry can’t help smiling this time.

"He’s fine."

"Tell him to come over and have dinner one of these days. It’s been a while." She winks before getting up and heading for the kitchen.

And, just like she said, Harry feels more and more alive.

__

Harry goes back home with Louis that night, just like his mother offered in the morning. They walk together, chatting animatedly. They are laughing out loud as Harry opens the door, but he is quickly cut off when he sees James sitting in the living room, glaring at him.

Harry tenses up so fast it hurts. He turns to Louis, already overwhelmed. "You better go. I…" Harry starts.

"No way." Louis murmurs. "I stick with you."

Louis sets his hand on the small of Harry’s back and the latter almost tears up at the touch. He swallows hardly and walks into the house. His mother gets up and comes to him.

"You should have told me." She whispers.

She gently pats Harry’s cheek with an encouraging smile. Then she turns to Louis. "Louis, sweetheart. Good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Anne."

"Come with me, let’s give them some space."

Louis shoots Harry an apologising look and follows Anne in the kitchen. Harry takes a few steps to get closer to James who is standing upright, looking furious.

"Your mother looks quite healthy to me." James says harshly. 

"James…" Harry feels exhausted before he even starts. He has neither the desire nor the strenght to get in a fight tonight.

"What the hell, Harry ?"

"I…"

"You know, when I arrived and saw that everything was fine here, I wondered why you had felt the need to lie to me. Why not just tell me that you missed your mother ? We could have planed a trip to England, both of us !"

James looked rather hurt ‘til then. But when he moves closer, standing right in front of Harry, his eyes are wild. He points out the kitchen with a nod. "Now I get it. How long has it been, uh ? How long have you been making a fool out of me ?"

"It’s not what it looks like." 

"How long Harry ?" James shouts.

Harry takes two steps backwards, shocked. James is the kind of guy who remains calm in every situation. He is not usually one to raise his voice. Harry hears Louis’ footsteps behind him and beckons him to stop without turning away from James.

"James, it is not what you think." Harry says slowly, hands outstretched. "We dance, that’s all. That’s all we do, we dance together. I wanted to dance again, that’s why I’m here."

"And you needed to come all the way here for that ? Couldn’t you find someone in Boston ?"

"I couldn’t do it without Louis." Harry answers, shaking his head.

James’ eyes get even darker when he moves them to Louis. He pulls at Harry’s arm abruptly and heads toward the front door.

"You come with me, we are going home." James whispers coldly.

Louis shrieks briefly and wants to step in, but Harry breaks away first. "Nothing forces me to follow you."

James turns around, flushed with anger. "Your life, Harry ! Your life forces you to follow me. Ours, the one we build together, in Boston !" 

"My life is here. It has always been." Harry says, instinctively stepping closer to Louis.

His movement is pretty obvious though, and a flash of understanding crosses James’ face. "I was right…"

James stumbles, leaving the house without adding a word. Harry goes to follow him, but Louis holds him back, grasping his wrist. Harry turns to him and is hit by Louis’ scared eyes. 

"Please don’t go." 

Louis is clinging on Harry’s hand, litteraly begging him. He seems afraid, but Harry is not sure why. Harry glances at the door one last time, then turns to the kitchen whence his mom is watching them with concern. She nods and Harry sighs. He lays his free hand on Louis’ and whispers. 

"Ok."

 

***

 

**text from James – 10.26 AM**

_[I would like to talk. Meet me at Skylounge in half an hour ?]_

  

Harry taps on his glass, waiting for James to talk. He does not want to relive the discussion of the day before. He knows James will behave, because they are in a public place, but he can not bear more reproaches. James finally opens up and surprises him.

"I am sorry about yesterday, Harry."

"You are wrong. There is nothing between Louis and me."

"You don’t seem like nothing." 

This time, there is no malice in his tone. And even if Harry does not want to expose all of his story, he still owes James some truths.

"Louis was my dancing partner, before. And we were a couple as well."

"See, you are not _nothing_."

They are silent for a while, a bit too long to be bearable. Harry keeps his eyes on his drink, not knowing how to react. James sighs, eventually.

"I want you to be happy, Harry. And if I can’t make you happy, and it seems like I can’t… Then I guess I have to let you go." He leans over the table between them and grabs Harry’s wrists, drawing his attention on him. "But think carefully. Because if you choose him, I will not stick around waiting for you."

Harry looks at him blankly. Even if he perceives James’ threat, hearing his words actually helps him realize what he wants. It is like getting slapped in the face and finally admitting what his heart has been longing for weeks. Harry suddenly feels in a rush.

"I’m sorry James. I really loved you and I never meant to hurt you."

Harry gets up, grabs his jacket and turns his back on James. He vaguely hears his name being shout, but he does not pay it any attention and keeps going.

__

Harry feels like the nervous wreck he was one week ago. He is waiting in front of Louis’ classroom. He should be out anytime for lunch break. Harry’s head is a mess. His heart is pounding, he has a lump in his throat and feels a horrible tension in his chest. He sways between excitement and apprehension, joy and stress. He has a feeling like is life is about to change in the next few minutes, depending on Louis’ reaction. 

He is across the hall when the door opens. Students leave quickly, greeting Harry on their way out, but he barely replies. Louis gets out then, eyes to his feet, phone to his ear. He is forced to notice Harry when his ringtone starts playing, notifying his call. Louis stares at Harry while hanging up, then freezes.

Their eyes lock and Harry feels struck. He throws himself forward and reaches for Louis, hugs him tight and lowers his face in the smaller man’s neck. After a few seconds, Louis finally reacts and wraps his arms around Harry’s body, breathing his name. Harry’s voice is muffled by Louis’ sweater when he talks.

"There was a hole in my heart. Always, for all these years. I thought it was dancing. I was conviced it was dancing, that I missed it too much and that I'd never be really happy again. And then you showed up and… you got me back into it. And it felt good. Those three weeks with you in Boston, it felt good. Better than anything in a long time. But you left, and every ounce of happiness disappeard. I tried to dance and I couldn’t. It wouldn’t help, I had still this void inside me that I couldn’t fill." 

Harry steps back, holding Louis’ hands between his and squeezing hard. Their eyes lock again, bright but teary, and Harry whispers. "There was this hole in my heart. It was you." 

Louis takes a feverish breath before smiling widely. He raises his right hand to Harry’s face and brushes his cheek with his fingertips. Harry is thrilled by the soft touch and warmth spreads in his limbs. He used to do this so often… Louis lifts himself up and kisses the spot he was rubbing, then snuggles up against Harry’s chest.

 

***

 

"So, it’s for real ? You are actually leaving ?"

Harry nods, setting his steaming mug down on the coffee table. Perrie looks quite shocked. Harry came back to Boston with James the night before. He felt like he owed him that. Getting back there and do things the right way.

When James left for work in the morning, he kissed Harry’s forehead then stared at him for several seconds, before sighing lightly and walking away. And Harry felt nothing. He is already completely emotionaly detached, but James seems to be in denial.

"I’m not here to stay, Perrie. I’m packing up and going back to London."

"It’s just so fast. I’m afraid you’re making a mistake, Haz…"

"I’m no longer happy here. I’m missing something and I can’t pretend anymore."

"What about James ?"

"We’ve been drifting apart for a while now."

"You never talked to me about it…"

"There was nothing to say, really."

Perrie sighs and drops her head. She looks resigned. "When are you leaving ?" She asks with a small voice.

"I didn’t book a flight yet, but I’ll leave as soon as I can. There’s no use sticking around. It’s not like I have things to take care of anyway."

Perrie pouts and Harry pulls her into a tight hug. She lets out little sobs and Harry puts his hand on the back of her head, whispering into her ear. "I’m gonna miss you Pez. I wish I could pack you up with my stuff and take you with me…"

He hears the light sound of her watery giggles and keeps cuddling her. Leaving her behind may be the hardest part of his decision. 

__ 

When James comes home that night, he can not ignore Harry’s bags stored in the hallway. Harry does not want to spend one more night in the house. He knows James well enough to realize that he would be giving him false hopes. James probably even thinks he has got a chance at changing Harry’s mind just because he flew home with him. So Harry would rather cut it short and leave already.

James heads toward him, clearly panicked. "What’s all this ? What are you doing ?" 

Harry remains calm and hopes it will be enough to defuse the situation. He already made up his mind anyway and he has got nothing to lose.

"I’m leaving James. I thought I’d made it pretty clear."

James’ eyes darken and his jaw clenches. If Harry did not know better, he might be afraid.

"You are not thinking straight, Harry. You are not leaving. You are not leaving _me_ after everything we’ve been through."

"I already did. We are over. There’s not point persisting, we’d only hurt each other. And we deserve better, both of us."

Fists along his body, James reiterates the threat he had made in London. "If you leave now, Harry, don’t bother come back begging later !"

He seems angry, but Harry knows it is an act. He looks straight in James’ eyes and, without any provocation, he says gently : "I’m not planning on coming back."

James is startled and his face drops. He turns in a sobbing mess in front of Harry. 

"Harry, please don’t do that." He clings to Harry’s arm, looking miserable. He wants to hold him back, but Harry breaks away, in every sense of the word.

 James tries to argue, but Harry cuts him short. "You must let me go, James."

__ 

It takes a few more minutes for Harry to get out but, when he closes the door, it feels like leaving huge weight behind. He breathes in deeply and takes the first step toward his new life.

 

***

 

Harry unlocks the door and steps into his apartment. It is small, it is not much to look at, but it is the first time that he actually lives on its own, so it is enough to make the place quite exceptional for him. He spent ten days or so at his mom’s before finding this condo at a decent price. He lives on casual odd jobs and his mother helps him out with the rent, but he is actively looking for a real job, both to handle himself and keep busy.

Since he returned to London about a month earlier, he really reconnects with his old self. He feels like he is getting younger, going back to a life-style that fits him. He realized the stilted behavior he had adopted with James. The tidy life they shared had extinguished him and he had forgotten how to have fun or enjoy a good time.

Louis obviously helps a lot. He is the one who encourages Harry to go out and meet some old friends. They dance together two or three times a week, when Louis is not with his troupe or busy. Harry slowly comes back to a decent level, even if he still refuses to lift Louis up.

Harry’s life has resumed a normal, pleasant rhythm. And it is almost like he never left. Almost. Louis and he often meet for lunch. They like to share that moment in the middle of the day. They also regularly go out at night, with some other friends or just the two of them. They talk a lot, face to face or sending texts. They are close. Louis has always been very handsy with Harry and that has not changed. They share lots of soft touches and looks full of hidden meanings. But whenever Harry tries to get closer, Louis withdraws and escapes. Harry is not sure why, but he needs the answer. So, he invites Louis to come over.

__ 

Considerate, Louis stopped on his way to Harry’s to order some chinese food. The empty dishes lie on the table while both men are sitting on the couch. TV is on in the background, but they don’t pay it any attention. They rather share funny anecdotes and laugh heartily. While they chat, Harry casually lays his hand on Louis’ thigh. Immediately, Louis stops laughing and looks away shyly. But this time, Harry does not back up.

"Lou… Will you tell me what’s going on ?"

"Nothing, everything’s fine." Louis replies with a smile that he probably hopes is reassuring.

"Not to me. Did I do something wrong ? I mean…" He is suddenly way less confident and lowers his eyes. "Besides disappearing without trace six years ago."

Louis sighs slowly and Harry looks up to see his eyes closed and his lips pinched.

"That’s not it." Louis whispers.

"But there is something. Tell me."

Harry grabs Louis’ hands in his and tangles their fingers. Louis breathes in deeply, gathers his courage and murmurs confidingly. "It may sound pretentious, but I feel like you are here because of me. Like… If we hadn’t run into each other in Boston, you’d still be there. And your life wouldn’t have radically changed within a couple of weeks."

He pauses for a second, swallowing hardly. Harry really wants to react, but he remains silent and waits for the rest.

"I’m afraid you might regret it. What if you wake up tomorrow and realize that I screwed up what you had by selfishly hanging on to you? What if you get angry with me and leave again ? I’m so scared at that thought…"

He opens his eyes and they stare at each other. Louis bites his lower lip as he waits for Harry to speak. The latter is actually a bit shocked.

"It’s not your fault, Louis. I was entangled in my life over there, but too accustomed and too scared to do something about it. I was not happy. And I didn’t know what to do to get better." 

Harry searches for the right words, afraid that he might not be able to express his thoughts correctly.

"You were… a trigger. A reminder of what my life could be if I gave myself the means to go for it. So it’s not your fault." He gets closer and brings his fingers to Louis’ cheek. "It’s thanks to you if I’m here. And I probably won’t ever be able to thank you enough for that. You know, I didn’t want to go to the charity that night. I was so done pretending, fed up with acting like that guy. But afterwards, I’m so glad that I went to the damn gala ! It was just a coincidence or… maybe not. You know I don’t believe in fate, all that. Yet…"

Harry shrugs and shakes his head, but can not figure out how to explain himself.

"Yet." Louis repeats.

He smiles and Harry knows he does not need to add words : Louis gets it. So Harry smiles too and sits back.

"We’re ok then ?"

"We’re ok."

 

*** 

 

Just like about every other day, Harry meets Louis in the studio before heading town for lunch. In the hallway, he bumps into Mrs. Russel, their former dance teacher. She was delighted when she learned that, not only was Harry back in England, but he was also dancing again. Ever since that day, she has been pestering him to participate in the gala that will be held a few weeks later. She dreams of seeing her two "prodigy boys" –she used to call them that– back on stage. Louis often talks about it and Harry knows that he really wants to do it with him. Until then, Harry resisted pretty hard. But after the discussion they had, he wants to do that for Louis. And for himself too, as a challenge.

They are sitting on a bench outside when Harry tells Louis that he has made up his mind and agrees on a dance with him for the show. Louis is ready to drop their lunch and hit the studio right away in order to start working on this new project. Harry calms him down, laughing. Louis sits back, but he is literally bouncing on his seat. Harry teases him about it, but deep down he is happy to see how pleased Louis is.

Back in the studio, they talk about it for a while, proposing ideas of musics or sequences that are close to their hearts. Harry takes the opportunity to clarify something.

"Just… No _porté_ , please. I can’t do it."

"You could, Haz…" Louis answers, trying in vain to hide his disappointment.

"I don’t know. No. I can’t. I don’t want to."

Louis keeps quiet but Harry knows him well enough. His mind must be racing. Anyway, Harry decides to let go and changes the subject.

__

In the evening, they meet again in the studio. Harry can see that Louis is ready to go on, but even if he came running, he still has to stretch. It is a basic rule he can not neglect. Louis reviews his collection of cd bundles and, when he reaches for the audio system, Harry listens closely.

 

[Iron - Woodkid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSkb0kDacjs)

 

Harry feels a sudden panic as soon as the music starts. The last time he danced on Iron, he injured himself and it ended the career he had been dreaming of. Louis sees it right away and reassures him though.

"I don’t wanna dance on this at the gala. But, just… It’s the most complete and complex chore we’ve ever done. It would be a nice place to start. You know, see what we’ve got and how we can use it."

"But Lou…" Harry whimpers.

"We can try the solo version. The one I danced in Boston." Louis suggests. "It’s pretty much the same but with only ground movements."

Harry remembers it, just like he remembers having that very same thought. So, he gives it a go. And it all comes back pretty quick : he would be unable to forget this dance, even if he wanted to. He encounters some difficulties with some specific movements, but he is still rather proud of himself. Louis, meanwhile, seems anxious. He goes round in circles, puffs his cheeks and sighs heavily. Harry ends up laying a hand on his arm, giving him a questioning look.

"It’s nothing. It’s…"

Harry insists, squeezing his wrist. Louis sighs again.

"I wish…" He stops, nervously brushing his fingers through his hair. "I really wish we could do our choreography. With the _portés_."

Harry vehemently shakes his head, still frightened at the idea. But Louis begs him.

"We can just try, Harry. Your knee is fine, I really think your are capable of it. You need to get over your fear."

"I can’t Lou… I can’t do it."

Louis’ mouth pinches, but he nods. He hits the remote and the musics starts again. They get back to work, but Louis still seems concerned. Harry catches him staring sometimes and he does not know how to interpret those glares, so he tries not to care too much. 

About twenty minutes later, they take a break. Harry empties a bottle of water and goes back to face the mirrors. He stretches his neck, which feels a bit stiff. Louis is behind him and he does not really pay him attention. Until Louis says his name. Harry turns his head, peeking over his shoulder. Louis looks determined, then drops his towel.

"Catch me."

As he starts running toward Harry, the latter reacts instinctively. He turns around completely and bends his knees, ready to catch Louis. In the blink of an eye, Louis flies in the air above Harry’s head. Taken aback by both the impulse and his memories, Harry continues the movement, achieving the infamous _porté_ that put him down before. It only lasts for five or six seconds, tops. But it is long enough for Harry to feel all the emotion, to relive the plenitude of the moment, the connexion between the both of them. As soon as Louis’ feet hit the ground though, Harry lets go of him like he has been burnt. Louis’ victorious smile strikes him with force. And in no time, when the realisation of what just happened settles in, Harry is overwhelmed by fear and anger takes over him. 

"Are you out of your freakin’ mind ?" He yells, hitting Louis’ chest. "You had no right !"

He breathes hard and quick. His fingers are shaking and he clenches his fists to try and control himself.

"You did it, Harry."

"It was dangerous ! You had no right !"

"You felt it too, didn’t you ?" Louis speaks with a low voice, as to make up for Harry’s condition. Harry hides his face in his hands and Louis lowers his on his shoulders.

"You did it, Haz."

Harry takes a minute to calm down and, when he looks up, he catches Louis’ soft, comforting smile. Then he sees his blue eyes and all the anger vanishes, as a warm feeling floods through his veins. Harry could get lost in those eyes forever. He could stand still and enjoy those feelings for hours, but it is all too much. So he rushes forward, grasps Louis’ neck and kisses his lips. Louis immediately melts into the kiss, like he has been waiting forever. 

It is a rough kiss, full of envy. The kind of messy kiss that says everything and nothing, featuring too many emotions and no order. A kiss that hurts, but feels good at the same time. A kiss that sets them free, somehow.

Harry draws his hands to Louis’ face, gently pushing him away. His lips are red, so are his cheeks. His eyes are kind of wild, but shiny with a fire that Harry remembers. Their bodies are still pressed together, like they can’t bear the smallest space between them. And they just look at each other, their eyes obstinately hoocked.

"I won’t do it again." Harry murmurs breathlessly.

"All right." Louis answers just as low. "But you couldn’t keep going like that. You couldn’t live with it anymore."

It is now Louis who lifts his hand to Harry’s cheek, then raising it to his forehead to remove a lock of hair.

"You did it Harry. You dance. And even if you don’t wanna lift me ever again, it’s ok. But you did it. You’ve been stuck and frustrated by a failure for all those years. As of today, it won’t be an excuse." 

He smiles widely then leans forward, slowly. His lips brushes against Harry’s. Once. Twice. Then he kisses him again with all the tenderness in the world.

 

***

 

After that, the gala was a huge success. Without any _porté_.

  

***

 

_Ten months later_

 

Louis opens the door and all the kids turn to him. Harry sighs and call them, but he does not scold them : his pupils adore Louis and he can’t really blame them. So, Louis is the one who gets a reproving look. He pouts as an answer and Harry melts. Louis goes to the other side of the room as Harry resumes his lesson.

After the gala, Mrs. Russel offered him of full time job at the studio. She needed a new teacher for the youngest kids and Harry agreed immediately. When Louis learned about it, he jumped into Harry’s arm and showed him how proud he was with a passionate embrace. That night, Harry finally had it all. Everything to be happy.

Ten minutes later, as soon as all the kids have left, Louis sneaks against Harry back, puts his hands on his waist and his lips on his neck.

"Can you do it, please Love ?" 

"Mmmh."

Harry relaxes in Louis’ arms, voluntarily eluding the question. He simply enjoys the contact, knowing that Louis will not drop it so easily. Louis’ hands brushes his ribs as he nibbles at his ear.

"Please. Please. Please. Pleaaaaaase."

Between each request, a kiss. Harry wishes he could resist more, but he is just weak when it comes to Louis. The kind of weakness you welcome with open arms. Louis slips around Harry’s body, facing him. And he keeps going.

"Please."

Harry puts his hand on Louis’ cheek, lifts it to his forehead, in his hair. Then he smiles and Louis has his answer. He lets go of Harry and jumps to the PA system. He plugs his phone in and starts the music. Then he goes back to sit by the mirrors, always looking for the best view.

 

[To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUFJJNQGwhk)

 

And Harry dances. For Louis. For his eyes only.

He surprised him, about six months after he came back. He worked like crazy. It is not just a choreography, not just another performance to add to the count. He put his soul in this one. This dance is their story. It is the whole extent of Harry’s feelings for Louis, transposed in a few movements.

He could not express it with words, the overwhelming feeling that flows over him as Louis watches him like that. The love he has got for this man. The gratitude he owes him. The amount of happiness he brings to his life. It is a lot. It is too much, sometimes. So much that a tear stream down his face. But he does not try to hide it. After all, Louis never remains indifferent himself.

When the piano part of the music begins, Louis gets up. It is the most emotional part for both of them. The notes get soft again and Louis approaches, sliding his hands in Harry’s, who takes the lead. Louis always feels like he rediscoveres it all over again. Those forty seconds are all theirs. Harry takes the time to feel every single emotion and get immersed in it. He sets his hands on Louis. Then, in a slow and smooth motion, he lifts him up. It is very simple, completely pure. Visually, there is nothing exceptional. But both men are well aware of the value of the gesture. Their bodies still harmonize, complementing each other perfectly. And that is all that matters.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this wasn't too much of a disappointment. I'm open for any advice or constructive criticism.
> 
> Thank you for reading !


End file.
